


Prompt-shots

by Gothfoxgirl



Category: Original Work
Genre: dark themes, discord stuff, non linking chapters, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothfoxgirl/pseuds/Gothfoxgirl
Summary: Discord snippets from our writing prompt chatuh...I was asked to put them on AO3 by a friend...You know who you are XD
Kudos: 1





	1. Darkness of Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: They taught me to fear the dark. They forgot to mention what happens in the light.

The shadows clawed with darkened fingertips, but it was all the little girl ever knew. They were her comfort and she never feared them. The night was her safety and the dark was her friend. The shadows...Oh, the shadows were her brethren. She stayed in the dark, her skin pale and sallow and and wrought with sleepless lines and greys. She stayed within those cold fingers, nestled within the bone bosom of her mother. 

She found her way, her feet callused and dirt streaked, towards something she had never seen before. It was weird and something of an odd warmth. She was uncomfortable, but curiosity crawled and nibbled and chewed at her heart. Coming closer and closer, she felt the hands of the night grip and pull at her, but she wanted to know… _She had to know._ What was this? Where did it come from?

She came to the edge of the night and found a stark boundary where it could not pass beyond. Wraith-like fingers inched towards it, touching where _sunlight_ bleached the concrete. As soon as her hand broke the border, smoke started steaming from her paper skin. It was like a fire had engulfed her nerves, scorching and melting and turning her flesh to ash. Jerking back into the cool comfort of Nyx, she watched the charred flaps of skin seal back up, the blackened edges returning to milk white...the color of bone. Her curiosity had earned her pain. She wanted never to return to that world. The world of hurt and suffering and _burning_.

Scurrying back where the rats once nested, she curled up, again, against the bone breast of her mother, the calcium arm of her father across her, as if to bring his wife and daughter into an embrace. An embrace of death and odd peace. Her head brushed the side of a sharpened branch, knot of wood punctuating the end and veins of age and rot over the sides, edges stained black, as if both had died as one.

On her own, she slept, cradled by her family, little canines tickling her tongue, as the night kept her safe, the stars its guide.


	2. Baa Baa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Use the first line of a nursery rhyme as the first line of a dark narrative.

Times were hard and bleak. Even the black sheep was slaughtered and shaved and used for food and warmth. The girl cried and hugged herself tight, arms wound around protruding ribs and knots of her spine. She was hungry, but she made sure not to complain. The sheep was her favorite, but she did not complain. She couldn't have many toys, _but she did not complain._ She did not complain, because it was all her father could take, losing his wife and his eldest and his youngest. They had broken into mournful and wretched cries, flakes of blood and hair in their teeth, as the stews of the lost filled them for days...a week, maybe. The boiled warmth filled them with a cold horror and pain, rather than comfort or happiness. But to keep the flies from their heads and their heads on their shoulders, they'd no choice. The waste that would have come from weighing them down with soil and gravel would mean them slipping and falling into their own wings and halo. She didn't complain. She didn't complain and it was all for his sake. She knew that either of them would be claimed and the other would have another week or two of full stomachs, and hearts heavy and strained with woe and guilt. They would succumb, but neither knew what disaster would this bring and when or if it would come swift in the night and carry them away or leave them in their minds to rot and fester, as the others had done.

Even with this in mind...

_She did not complain._


	3. Cranium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not necessarily a prompt, but i got the idea from this youtube speedpaint:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7m-h4MzVI0

Dirt crumbled and sifted away from a shape, long buried beneath. A hand came down, a small brush dusting the earth from this object, finding yellowed milk peeking from the ground. A delicate touch was what it took to move loose soil from around a rounded shape. It was organic. Bone. A hollow socket stared back into the grey eyes observing the man's work. He brushed further, loosening the, newly identified, skull away from its impacted tomb.   
"Beaumont!" A head of sleek black hair turned, skin almost as white as milk.   
"Yes?" He waved the woman over.   
"I found something! Ya might want ta take a look!" She walked over, her cap keeping the glaring sun from blinding her, even through her dark shades. Crouching, she found the man, carefully, dusting the eyes out of dirt and grime. The skull was different, but slightly so. Its eyes were a touch smaller and its jaw was more square. The thickness of the bone was about twice that of a normal human, slight ridges along the brow and around the eye sockets. The man turned to her, as she removed her shades, grey meeting a rich brown.   
"There's somethin' off about this skull, Lily. See here?" He used the tip of the handle to hover over the teeth.   
"See? They're sharper. Like he only ate meat...Looks about in his early thirties. A subspecies, maybe?" Taking the skull from his hands, she scrutinized it, running her eyes over every little scratch, scuff, and chip.   
"Hmm...Not sure. Were there any other bones?"   
"Nothin' so far. If anythin' we'd find shards, rather than full bones."  
"Keep searching, please. I'll take our friend to my colleagues. Maybe they'll know something about his origins." The man, Lucas, tipped the brim of his work hat a little and turned back to the dig site to continue. 

Pushing her arm against the flap of her tent, Lilith Beaumont took a seat at her desk.  
"I've finally found you." She pulled out her satellite phone and dialed a number. After a couple rings, she heard a male voice on the other end.  
"Lily?"   
"Oliver. I found him." It sounded like he almost dropped his phone.  
"You...what?!"  
"Danny dug him up."  
"Are you...Are you sure?"  
"Yes. He has the same crack in his orbital floor." There was a breath that passed over the receiver.  
"It's..."  
"Been so long."  
"Yeah..."  
"I'll be home tonight." There was a shifting on the other side.  
"Be safe, please." She laughed a little.  
"Of course, Love." She hung up and put her hand onto her desk, her right coming over to fidget with her wedding band. It was simple, but did the job with only an inset of diamond. Nothing to get caught on anything. She stared into those blank , empty, sockets, a smile twitching at her lips.  
"You've been found, Henry. You'll be whole again soon enough."

She met her husband, as she got off the plane, the sturdy case in her hand holding onto the skull Danny had found. The one she called Henry. As soon as Oliver's deep blue eyes settled upon it, they twinkled a shade brighter. Lily pat his arm.  
"Soon..."

At home, they descended the steps, where an altar sat, lit candles and sconces sending bouncing halos of light darting over the walls. Upon the altar sat a collection of bones, seeming centuries old. They laid against the stone tablet, loose and without connective form. Lilith placed the case upon the floor and opened it, bringing the skull out and setting it above where the neck bones lie. Both husband and wife moved about the room, the woman bringing a candle forward, letting the black wax drip upon the skeleton's forehead. The dull chanting coming from Oliver was a droning drawl that filled the silence that had thickened the room, as she rose her hand, thumb cut and, slowly, forming droplets of crimson.  
"The blood of life shall revive the line of which it flows within. Be reborn, my brother!" After a couple seconds, the bones rattled to life, the mouth snapping open, as if in a demented, silent, scream of life. Cartilage and tendons attached joints together and began the reformation of organs and muscles, which wrapped up the bones like thick ribbons of flesh.

Oliver didn't let up his chanting, but his eyes twinkled with excitement. Those fingers of muscle stretched and crawled up the, writhing, body's neck and over his face, covering his teeth. His ribcage shuddered, as a heart swelled in, being followed by lungs and a deafening breath of air, as if they'd been starved of air for far too long. It didn't take long for the skin to come morphing over curves and angles, cutting off the sensitive nerve endings from direct contact with the air. His form went limp, but his breathing was still there, starting to even out. The chanting only stopped, when he sat up on his arms and turned his legs over the edge of the altar, the cloth over his lap. The first thing to come from his mouth was a rasping cough and a request.  
"Wa...Water..." They were prepared, passing him a glass. With shaky fingers, he took it, using his other hand to stabilize the bottom. He hadn't inhabited this body in hundreds of years. He was bound to be a bit rusty on his motor functions. Once his tongue was wet, he opened his eyes, deep brown eyes peering into those of his twin. The exact same color.  
"Lilith..." She smiled at him, relief on her face.  
"Henry."


End file.
